


c(los)es(t)

by bouenkyou



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Gen, Illustrated, Minor Character Death, Nightmares, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-15
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:15:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25921198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bouenkyou/pseuds/bouenkyou
Summary: Kageyama stumbles and falls. Then he gets up.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 43
Collections: Prodigy ♔ A Kageyama Tobio Fanzine - Fanworks Collection





	c(los)es(t)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Kageyama Zine, which is available for download for free [here](https://kageyamazine.tumblr.com/post/625278460593586176/were-delighted-to-announce-the-release-of-prodigy)! This fic was illustrated by the incredibly talented and super creative [onshrike](https://onshrike.weebly.com/)! 
> 
> Please keep in mind that this story contains spoilers for Kageyama as a character. There aren't spoilers related to the rest of the manga plot.
> 
> This story was an extraordinary challenge, but I'm glad I decided to go with it. Huge thanks to [quantize](https://archiveofourown.org/users/quantize) for beta reading and making this piece of fiction even better.

Tobio stares at the casket for hours, but the tears don’t come. 

He knows this is the natural order of things—it’s a given that it will come eventually, just like winter or like losing.

The framed photo on top of the casket smiles back at him and his sister’s quiet sniffling fills the room, accompanied by the sound of the priest conducting the prayers. His parents stand by closely and he looks at them. They both look tired, and Tobio knows that from now on, he will be alone. With a sigh, he cradles the worn-out volleyball he brought with him closer to his chest.

Once outside, he starts playing around with the volleyball out of boredom. The tips of his fingers connect with the leather surface and Tobio feels like he can breathe again. As the line of mourners trudges out of the funeral home, they give him furtive looks, probably wondering why he has even brought a volleyball to a funeral. Shortly after, his mother beckons to him.

“Why don’t you go back and wait for us at home? I’m sure you’re tired.” It’s a polite way to let him know he’s making the family lose face, but he knows his mother means no real harm, so he nods. His mother turns to signal his father, but Tobio holds her wrist to stop her. 

“I can take the train,” he says. “Or just run.” 

His mother narrows his eyes. “Run? Tobio, you’re wearing a suit.”

“The train, then,” he insists. 

With a sigh, his mother nods. “Alright, be careful. I’ll see you at home.” 

On the way out of the funeral home grounds, he spots his sister. She gives him a questioning look when she figures out Tobio is going home, and he shrugs, motioning towards their mother. Miwa frowns, and he can tell what she’s thinking—something along the lines of their parents depriving him of his last goodbye—but he’s actually relieved about this. He doesn’t know if he was expected to help take care of his grandfather’s remains, but he knows he’s not ready for it, so this easy way out suits him just fine. 

She looks at him like he's on the verge of shattering, but he knows he won’t. His grandfather taught him to be strong. 

***

Soon enough, Tobio is back to his usual routine—waking up early for his morning jog and then going to school for practice. He doesn't tell anyone about his grandfather. An elderly relative passing on is nothing unusual, and it's not like his teammates know about his grandfather anyway.

He doesn’t see a point in going home early, so his time after school is spent on intense practice. There’s no one waiting for him at the house anymore, and he feels more at home at the gymnasium these days. The smell of leather and polishing wax fills his lungs when he inhales, and it works like a charm—he’s calm and focused, any traces of anxiety buried in the deepest parts of his psyche. 

At some point, he tried to get his teammates to practice sets or digs with him, but everyone was too eager to go home. With nothing else to do alone, he focuses on serving. When the ball slams into the ground, the sound reverberates in the gym, giving Tobio a thrill. He celebrates when the serve follows the course and lands right where he wants. 

Going back to an empty house is the hardest part for him. He wishes he could talk about his progress with his grandfather like they did in the past, but talking to the altar feels weird for him. Instead, he makes his way around the rooms filled with memories of his grandfather—them watching matches together in the living room, practicing different moves in the yard, or just having conversations about volleyball. His grandfather was the biggest presence in his life until now and he isn’t sure what to do now that he is gone. 

At night, Tobio gets into the habit of going for a run, too, out of desperation. He knows he isn’t honoring the personal maintenance rule, but this is for mental maintenance. At least he sleeps better when he’s dead tired. 

***

The weeks turn into months and he continues working himself into the ground. It takes his mind off the growing hole in his chest and the unease that coils in his belly whenever he’s not moving or connecting his fingers with the ball. He ignores the bags under his eyes because he feels like he is in perfect condition physically, but the other people around him observe him with pressed lips and furrowed eyebrows. 

“Don’t you think you’re overdoing it?” Miwa asks one night as he’s preparing for his night run, concern written all over her face. 

“I’m doing the same as usual,” he grumbles as he ties his running shoes. 

“Tobio…don’t lie to me.” She goes over and ruffles his hair. “Training till you drop won’t bring—” 

He brushes her hand away with a scowl. “I’ll be back later,” he says, stepping outside. 

When he’s gone, Miwa sighs and walks towards the altar in their home. 

“I don’t know what that child is thinking,” she muses, looking at the picture of their grandfather. “I just hope he doesn’t break.” 

With a controlled pace, Tobio runs. He tries to concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other, but the anger bubbling in his chest messes up his concentration and he trips over his own feet, tumbling onto the ground. A part of him is glad that it’s just grass where he fell, and not concrete or the story would be completely different. He lets himself down on the grass and looks up, facing the clear sky. The expanse of deep blue peppered with stars dissipates his anger. 

Miwa doesn’t understand anything. Not about him or about Kazuyo- _san_.

Tobio often thinks about what kind of connection he would have had with his grandfather had he not played volleyball. What would have been of his life? He isn’t good at imagining what-ifs except for volleyball strategy—proof that he can’t have been anything but a volleyball player.

He knows his fate was decided the day after he played his first official match as a kid. His grandfather gave him the answer to his destiny while they walked home together— _Y'know Tobio… If you get really, really good, you'll get to play lots more games. The best players get to play lots and lots of volleyball. If you get really good... I promise you... somebody who's even better will come along and find you._

Those words remain etched into his mind and he wonders now if he could find his grandfather’s soul in volleyball. A way to maintain the connection. Is his hard work proportional to the depth of the connection? Trying to think about it makes his head hurt, so he’s stopped thinking about it and just trains twice as hard. 

The ache in his body doesn’t even compare to the pain of his loss. 

***

“What are you doing, Kunimi! You could have saved that ball!” Tobio’s bellow echoes in the gym. Kunimi rolls his eyes and shrugs, moving back to his spot. 

“Don’t mind him,” Kindaichi says, clapping Kunimi’s shoulders. “You know how Kageyama gets when he’s on the court.” 

“Kindaichi, pay attention, we’re starting,” Tobio murmurs as his eyes follow the ball arcing over the net towards their side of the court. He feels in top condition. The same can't be said about his teammates—they've wasted so many plays.

“Kindaichi!” Tobio sets the ball, but Kindaichi jumps one second too late, only touching the ball with his fingertips. By some miracle, the ball still goes over the net and falls on the opposite side. The crowd cheers and Kindaichi lets out a sigh of relief. 

Narrowing his eyes, Tobio seizes Kindaichi by his jersey. “I told you to jump faster. Don’t rely on flukes.” 

“Dude, we still got a point. Can you chill?” Kindaichi rolls his eyes and shoves him away. 

“They’re serving,” their captain, Hashikami, yells to dispel the tension. “Get in position!” 

With practiced ease, Toobetsu, the team’s libero, digs the serve, sending it to Tobio. He analyzes the court. There are two blockers ready to jump opposite to Kindaichi—that means Tashiro is the best choice. 

Without warning, he sets the ball, but Tashiro is not fast enough and misses it, costing them a point. 

“What are you doing!!” Tobio shouts, stomping towards Tashiro. “Don’t be so incompetent, that was a perfect set and you ruined it!” 

“Kageyama!” Hashikama jumps in between them. “I get what you’re saying, but you’re being rude.” 

“I’m rude?! Captain, these guys aren’t taking the game seriously.” Tobio scowls. “Those who don’t respect the game shouldn’t stand on the court!” 

The sound of the whistle and murmurs from the crowd snaps Tobio out of his rage. All his teammates look towards the substitution zone. While he was quarreling with the captain, the coach had requested a player substitution. He turns around and a cold shiver runs down his spine. 

In the substitution zone, the reserve setter holds a paddle with his number. He turns towards his teammates again, but nobody looks at him. They’ve walked back towards their positions. 

“Number 2, you need to leave the court,” the referee instructs and Tobio nods numbly, his feet shuffling towards the bench. 

With a hard look, the coach signals Tobio to sit down. “Watch your teammates,” he says. “Maybe you’ll learn something about teamwork.” 

The rest of the game unfolds in front of his eyes. Even without him on the court, the ball gets delivered to spikers, who in turn score points—the team keeps the ball in play. The setter that substituted him is below his level, but the spikers call out to him for a toss and Tobio can feel that the team is much more united with this lineup. 

Dread floods him—he has worked so hard in an attempt to stand on the court longer than anyone, but in the process, he has forgotten the most important part of the game - teamwork. 

Two blows of the whistle indicate the end of the match. Kitagawa Daiichi doesn’t advance to the next round and Tobio’s middle school volleyball career ends on a sour note. With a heavy heart, he goes home. Only for today, he feels a bit relieved that the house is empty. He wouldn’t know how to face his grandfather otherwise. He drops face-first into his bed and sighs. Maybe he can redeem himself in high school. 

***

Rows of numbers fill Tobio’s line of sight. He checks the piece of paper in his hand with his exam number scribbled in and looks up again at the boards with the exam results. 

His number is not on the list. 

With a sigh, he crumples the paper and walks away. 

He wasn't really expecting to pass the exam, having taken it as a precaution since he was riding on the possibility of receiving a sports recommendation. In the end, thanks to his mistakes, his coach didn’t write him one and he was sure the coaches at Shiratorizawa wouldn’t be interested in some second-rate setter that couldn’t even play with others. Tobio had devised a plan earlier in his life of the shortest way to become a professional player.

Now that path was gone.

His family takes the news without much fuss and, while his mother tries to figure out what other education options Tobio has, he holes himself in his room to ruminate where exactly he went wrong. 

At night he’s chased by nightmares. The worst one is the one where the court splits in half, separating him from everything else. The breach grows bigger as the fragments of the court fall into an abyss. With nowhere to run he too falls into unimaginable darkness. He jolts awake from the same dream for the umpteen time, drenched in sweat.

He stares at the ceiling, thinking whether things would have been different if Kazuyo- _san_ had been around to advise him. He recalls his grandfather smiling at him, calling his name, and his vision blurs. The corner of his eye stings as a tear wells up and spills down his cheek. He rubs his eyes in an attempt to dry them, but the dam he's built up over the past few months cracks, and the tears won't stop. An involuntary sob escapes his lips, but he doesn’t want to alert anyone in the house, so he squeezes his face against his pillow and breaks down, weeping over all the things he’s lost.

Once he’s exhausted all of his tears, he feels strangely relieved. A sense of serenity dawns on him. For the first time in weeks, he drifts into a calm, dreamless sleep. 

***

On the first day of school, Tobio looks in the mirror as he buttons up his _gakuran_. It’s eons away from the light blue shirt, purple tie, and white blazer he was expecting to wear, but he’s not displeased.

Karasuno has a volleyball club. For now, being able to keep playing is enough. The team might not be strong, as he didn’t hear much of it besides past glory, but he wants to make a clean start and any team will serve that purpose. 

He makes his way to the gymnasium as soon as classes are done. The nostalgic smells and sights fill him with indescribable emotions; he’ll spend the next three years growing and improving in this gym. A small part of him also hopes he can find good teammates—comrades he can think of as his equal. He’s done being a tyrant. 

He can’t help but think about the conversation he had with his grandfather when he was a child—the conversation that pushed him to achieve perfection. His grandfather’s words echo in his mind— _I promise you... somebody who's even better will come along and find you._

He had been wrong all along. It wasn’t that he needed to be the best on his own, because volleyball is played with six people. With that thought in mind, he decides he will be a team player. If his team becomes really good, he’ll get to meet and fight against the strongest players. 

“I have a long way to go, Grandfather,” he mutters with a small smile as he twirls the volleyball in his hand. 

Shortly afterward, the other club members begin to trickle in. 

Years later, Tobio reminisces about how lost he had been when his grandfather passed away. His grandfather had been his guide in life—a lighthouse in the dark during a storm.

He knows now, too, that Karasuno brought into his life the strong player his grandfather had talked about. Not a guide, but a goal. 

Something brighter than a lighthouse. 

Someone equal to the sun.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are more than welcomed!


End file.
